A Prex is Chosen
It is the biggest Direx meeting of the year! This is the meeting that the new Prex is chosen by random drawing. As such, the Direx Antechamber is all decked out for the occasion. Tables covered in appetizers: Corellian Sea Crab Claw, Ettian Sauced Gooslet Leg, Trandoshan Giant Beetle Bites, and much more line the walls of the room, while human waiters scurry to and fro distributing various drinks and collecting empty glasses. A full bar is set up in the corner. Above the doors leading into the main conference room is an electronic screen that displays the agenda for the meeting: Prex Selection, Corellia Situation, Mutanda, and a few other talking points. Miranda Jabs is early to the meeting, as she tends to be. She has already staked out a corner of the room, and is sitting in a chair reading a datapad. Her verpine servant is at the tables, collecting two of each appetizer on a plate. This is Amalgamated Waste Corporation's first DIREX meeting, and the first time its mysterious CEO, G.S. Qwynt VIIIth, has been in attendance. Making the right impression is clearly on their minds as the Amalgamated entourage arrives. A number of sleek bureaucrats arrive first and busy themselves in the lobby, reviewing security, noting who's who, and making last minute adjustments to datapads. When the CEO actually arrives, there is an audible gasp in the room. There, at the exit from the turbolift, is a beautiful twi'lek woman, remarkably toned and glamorous. She is wearing the garb of the traditional symbol of justice: her eyes are bound with gauze, a sword hangs at her side, and she carries a small balance. A sash emblazoned with "Amalgamated Waste" is draped over her shoulders. In her arms she carries a small creature the size of a child, cradling him like an infant, though his scabrous, betusked face is not childlike at all. There, to be presented for his first DIREX meeting, is Qwynt, a Toydarian, born aloft quite literally by the arms of justice. Qwynt lifts his head to survey the room, and motions for his caretakeer to carry him over to Jabs' verpine servant. The scent of fresh sea food and other such delicacies flavor the air that Dante draws breath of as she steps into the Direx Antechamber, datapad in one hand as she scans the room and puts names to faces, or - more accurately - political affiliations to Direx chairs and their appointed representatives and hangers on. The visual sweep of the room completed, the lay out matching the schematics on the data pad enough that she can pinpoint at least three immediate exit avenues. A subtle roll of her shoulders is given in a shrug before she steps further into the room and speaks quietly into her comm unit, "Looks like all hands are on deck, Sir." The signal is given, Imperial Warlord Darth Venger makes his way into the chamber. Ground lighting causes the bone plates of his mask to glow under the dark cowl of his cloak, giving him an almost sinister appearance. He strides into the chamber surrounded by a retinue of aides in similarly black robes adorned with Imperial badges of state noting their positions in the ministries of finance, war, and state. In the Sithlord's hands, a black datapad is clutched. Jabs looks up as the others begin to arrive. The Prex selection meeting is nothing new to her, as she has been in business for quite some time. She seems relaxed and in her element. Almost bored. However, as she glances up at the first arrival, she is greeted with the grandeur(?) of Qwynt's arrival and an audible gasp escapes her mouth before she can stifle it. The woman can't tell whether to be offended or amused or to feel...competitive that Amalgamated Waste will be on everyone's lips for days. As the twi'lek carries the small CEO over to her verpine, she stands and takes a few steps towards him. She doesn't like it when other people talk to her verpine. Even the arrival of the Imperial contingent, usually a moment of some small amount of fanfare, barely ruffles the crowd, as all eyes are on the Twi'lek and the Toydarian "baby" she cradles. Beside the smartly-dressed starfighter plot is another yet Imperial officer, the difference in the two of them being that the man's uniform while clean was perhaps a bit wrinkled here and there. And there was the matter of the cigarra that, while not lit, was held in the closed palm of his right hand. His gait was not entirely relaxed, but it was far closer to it than the rigid posture sometimes adopted by his colleagues. He turns his head from side to side, looking over the room, although his concern was more with the people there than anything as only they were given more than a cursory glance. Just how he had managed to survive this long with his obvious lack of zeal and attention to detail was a mystery, but what mattered was that Rainer was here. Justice has borne Qwynt to Jabs's verpine, and obligingly positions herself so that Jabs can't immediately hear the conversation. "I'm always looking for quality workers," Qwynt says appraisingly to the insectoid. He adds, somewhat more conspiratorially: "Whatever she pays you, I'll double it. Holo me sometime." By the time Jabs has reached them, Justice wheels to face her, presenting her Toydarian charge. "Ah, Miranda Jabs," Qwynt calls, with false cheerfulness. "Lovely to see you again. Maybe if we have some time after this we can talk about the thing with the guy." But that line of talk is cut off with the arrival of Imperials, and the Sithlord. For a moment, even Qwynt is impressed at their ability to make an entrance. It is the mark of a gentleman to arrive fashionably late no matter the event, and Smitherbodkins is nothing if not the consummate gentleman. Thus, he makes his entrance several minutes after the Imperial entourage, with considerably less pomp than the Toydarian, and without any alien hangars-on. However, it would be impossible for him to slip in unnoticed anywhere; it's just not his way. He strides through the door, cane swinging jauntily, a genial smile on his face. His eyes scan the room, taking in all its occupants and their retinues, then lets out a chuckle, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, completely unconcerned with his relative lack of spectacle. He begins to make his way over to Jabs and Qwynt. "My friends!" he booms, removing his hat and tucking it under his arm. Dante's well honed combat skills are operating at full power as she plots her assault on the generous array of food to be sampled from. Not to say that rations aren't an awesome thing. Or that the food in the mess hall isn't top notch and perfectly tailored to the physiology and body type of every soldier. Not at all. All the same, the battle plan is carefully formulated and plotted out for maximum yield. She has moved a few more feet away from the entrance as the Warlord enters, standing alongside Maximilian and looking impeccably clad in compared to his slightly rumpled appearance while continuing to eye the crowd, and the refreshments, with equal attention to detail. Darth Venger approaches his advanced team, his voice obscured by the modulator in his helmet. "Good Evening." A wave of his hands sends a female advisor off to make contact with the Corporate Sector host, to get the agenda for the meeting and return to her lord. Rather than make a beeline for the food as some have, Rainer instead veers off towards one corner, the cigarra at last stuck between his lips and a lighter was retrieved from his jacket, moments latter, he was contently puffing away at it, small ringlets of smoke released into the air. From his vantage point, the man could observe the others that were gathered here, and in particular their CSA host, his eyes wandered over them, the wide variation among them bringing a brief smile to him. As Qwynt addresses the verpine, it looks at the ground, and tucks its head back towards its shelled body, almost like a turtle trying to hide, aware of Miranda's approach. "It's not for sale," Jabs snaps at Qwynt, coming up beside the verpine. She managed to suppress a momentary look of puzzlement before replying, "Yes, of course. Will you be on Etti long?" As she stands there talking, the verpine takes a bite out of each of the types of appetizers on its plate. After a few minutes, it passes the plate to its master. She eyes the verpine for a moment, as if looking for any ill affects after eating and, satisfied, begins to eat from the untouched food. As Smitherbodkins enters, Miranda gives him a curt nod and utters, "It is good to see you again as well. I hope that the affairs we discussed earlier. Do you know Mr. Um...the Representative from Amalgamated Waste?" Meanwhile, Miranda's attention is somewhat distracted by the arrival of the Imperials. This meeting is being sponsored by FoxTech Inc, and as such it is her job to make sure that all guests are greeted and comfortable. It is imperative that the Imperials be greeted quickly, and so she shoves a datachip into the Verpine's hands and directs him towards Korolov. It makes it way through the crowd and bows low, extending the datachip to his security detail (addressing the lord himself would be unspeakably rude) and says with a clicking accent, "The agenda for my lord." Qwynt gestures with his middle finger at Jabs, "Everybody has their price! But sure, yes. Eh?" Qwynt takes the arrival of Smitherbodkins in stride, and seems reminded of something. "Oh good. I have a delivery for you coming here for after the meeting. Regarding the weather on Nar Shaddaa? You get that? About the weather? On Nar Shaddaa?" He chuckles at his own cleverness, and waves Justice to start carrying him toward the Board room. A route around the Imperials is advisable. Just a reflex from spending a lifetime cheating and bribing his way through the Empire. "But off course," Smitherbodkins continues, making no effort to lower his voice despite his proximity to those he is addressing, "you shall come to know me as a man of my word, Ms. Jabs." Her question elicits another chuckle from him, and he looks to the Toydarian in question, giving him a nod. "Ah, yes, Mr. Qwynt. I trust everything is going according to plan for you, as well." Qwynt's rather less-than-subtle comments about the weather on a planet completely inconsequential to the task at hand seem to amuse him, and he gives Jabs a look, shrugging in a very 'who knows?' sort of way. "So, what's the new business on the agenda? I do hope you received my communication about the vote to use CSA security on planets with board member holdings. I am most adamant that it be passed through." "My Lord," Dante says quietly as she straightens almost imperceptibly to her full height, her already perfect posture and squared shoulders marking her as on task even if her assault plans on the buffet table remain on track with one small portion of her attention. "The security appears adequate, for a facility of this nature. The assessment that each Direx member likely has their own security contingent is logical, though without pulling a full briefing of each and their expertise I can't speak, precisely to their strengths. That being said," and she sweeps the room again, eyeing the generous sampling of non-humans in the room - all eyed with equal suspicion - before shifting her focus back to the Warlord, "there is a high probability that this event will proceed within reasonable expectations as planned." She's a pilot, she can't help the instinct to generate multiple fall back plans, "I'm sure it won't, precisely, but that's what plan B through Z is for, of course." "There is no reason to expect that everything will not go to plan." Darth Venger's attention is drawn to the Verpine bowing, causing him to pause slightly before accepting the datachip and handing it back to his assistant who dutifully slots it into a datapad before reading off the agenda in high Coruscanti accented basic, " It appears to be a full meeting, my lord." She closes with before falling silent once again. the Sith's attention is drawn to the Toydarian, what a perfectly peculiar species, he remembers from his studies long ago. Miranda's lips purse in a rather perturbed way and she gives Smitherbodkins a withering look, as if to say, "Really?" She then responds to Qwynt with, "Yes, I hear it is rather. . .slimy." It is not bad enough that she has to be seen talking with this creature just as the Imperials arrive, but to be saying such seeming drivel where she might be overheard makes it much worse. As Qwynt is carried off towards the board room, Jabs relaxes slightly and she turns to Smitherbodkins, shaking her head slightly. Deciding to let whatever she was going to say go, she instead chooses to reply, "Yes, I think I saw that item on the agenda. Most important, certainly. I am concerned about sending Corporation security outside of sector space, but we will discuss it tonight. I see it is second on the agenda. I think it will generate much debate. I think we should go inside soon. Excuse me, I have to greet our Imperial guests." With that, Miranda breaks off from Smitherbodkins and makes her way over to the Imperials. As she reaches Korolov, she gives several low bows. "Welcome to the Corporate Sector. I am Miranda Jabs, with FoxTech Inc. Forgive my delay in welcoming you. I was involved with a small business transaction. I hope Tsis," she gestures to the verpine, "has been able to assist you. Please, come in," she says gesturing to the meeting room. Qwynt doesn't need Justice for this portion of the meeting, and reluctantly he staggers up to a sitting position, lets his head clear, and takes off, hovering. "Ok, scram," he utters, waving her off quietly. He weaves a bit to see who is talking to whom, and his jaundiced eyes watch the obsequious Miranda work the Imperial contingent. Qwynt, only speaking to himself, observes, "Yeah, we got a name for that type of sales where I come from lady, heh heh." He busies himself with trying to clear his nostrils with forceful snorts -- tastefully, off to the side of the room -- while he waits for the meeting to start. Smitherbodkins' lips twitch ever so slightly as Qwynt and Miranda have their rather...interesting...exchange, though he sobers quickly as Miranda answers his question. When she finishes, he nods, replying, "Splendid, splendid." With that, he begins to make his way to the meeting room with the others, picking up an empty glass from the refreshment table as he does so, and claims a chair equidistant from the two ends of the meeting table, positioning himself to better hear any and all side conversations. He reaches into a pocket of his jacket and removes a silver monogrammed flask, then begins to unscrew it and pour a rich, amber liquid into the glass in front of him. As Miranda approaches, Darth Venger turns from the Verpine to examine her, responding by dipping his head in acknowledgement of the bow, "Your servant has been most helpful. The Emperor has sent me as his emissary to remind our allies in the Corporate Sector that the Empire hopes to continue our mutually beneficial arrangement." However either the tone in the Human's natural voice or the modulation of the helmet makes his statement seem less pleasant than it otherwise might be. He folds his arms in front of him, turning towards his assistant and motioning towards the position at the table reserved for the Imperial delegation, "Make sure that preparations are made." Dante's expression is that perfectly blandly neutral sort that one wears as she nods solemnly to Darth Venger and takes a step back slightly as Miranda and the Verpine Tsis approach the warlord. Turning her attention again to the room at large she eyes the individuals already seated at the table, the gentleman with the flask - he brought his own drink, now THAT is planning ahead - and falls silent while working out the details for plan 2a, just in case. A chime sounds from somewhere in the room and the display over the door displaying the agenda begins to flash a countdown clock of two minutes until the meeting begins to start. Taking note of this, Miranda directs the Imperial contingent towards the door, welcoming them inside. She herself makes her way to a seat near the entrance to the room and her verpine positions itself behind her chair. Qwynt glides in the air over to a place at the table as well, finding a prop for his feet so he can be level with the other Board members. He lights there, fussing over his robes and setting his meeting supplies in place. It's not long before he's drumming his fingers on the polished table. Taking a small sip from his glass, Smitherbodkins' eyes slide closed as he rolls the liquid over his tongue, savoring the subtle flavors. With a contented sigh, his eyes open once more, and there's a keen edge to them that was absent before. He regards each of his fellow members and their retainers in turn, the genial smile still on his face. Darth Venger makes his way towards the seat set aside for the Imperial contingent. He takes his seat, leaving room for the rest of his contingent, he rests his hands on the armrest of his chair, watching as others file into the room. Dante remains standing, though a bit back from the table, just enough that she can see all the guests at the table and the surrounding space as well. She clasps her hands behind her back, having tucked the datapad into one pocket, and turns her attention toward each individual in turn, studying each face and the various expressions and body language on display. As the countdown clock on the wall outside reaches zero, the doors of the Direx conference room slowly close and seal themselves against eavesdroppers and electronic transmissions become jammed. These talks are private. A little fanfare begins to play over the speakers as everyone finds their seat and then sparks and steam begin to erupt from a trapdoor near the front of the room. The trapdoor opens and, to this strange bit of fanfare, the current ExO and Prex are lifted into view looking very proud of themselves: one very large, and one very small, already seated and holding a cane. "Well, well, we hope we didn't scare you with our little firework display there," the enormously fat and bald Prex Humbert Pumberdum, CEO of Omnibus Transportation, says, addressing the gathering. "As you know, it is an auspicious day here. The last day of my honored reign as your Prex. Soon, one of you will understand the sacrifice and hard work that I have done for the corporation. How about a round of applause for the departing Prex?" Then he claps loudly for himself. "I'd like to turn the meeting over to the ExO with the choosing of the next me!" The ExO, a small and wasted looking man, wobbles to his feet. A bowl full of slips of flimsiplast is already on the bowl and he plunges his frail hand into it, pulling out a slip. "The next Prex will be...Qwynt." Miranda leans forward expectantly as she waits for the results of the drawing. Upon hearing the name of the repulsive Toydarian who has just recently caused her a small amount of embarrassment, she cannot keep her polite smile from looking somewhat more like a grimace. Regardless, she is among the first to clap in congratulations of the new Prex, trying to mask the grumbling of some other CEOs nearby. There is no need to get on his bad side. As planned, a FoxTech employee emerges from a side door and throws handfuls of confetti onto Qwynt and hands him a heavy golden hammer, human sized, with the word "Prex" and the date engraved on it. The former Prex, Humbert Pumberdum, is the first one to walk over to his replacement and offer his hand to be shaken. "Ho ho! Congratulations! And here, your first Direx meeting! What a surprise! What a surprise!" Qwynt, at this moment, is up to his second knuckle in one nostril, and only realizes his name has been called when everyone turns to look at him. He snatches his hand back under the table and clears his throat before he realizes this could mean: profits? A sly smile grows beneath his small trunk. "Former Prex Pumberdum: let me be the first to congratulate you on your successful reign or term thing. Thank you, thank you," he says, shaking his predecessor's hand. "I promise my term will mean the lowering of regulations, increased, ah, revenues, and a more supportive business climate!" Qwynt calls to the room, beckoning more applause with one hand and holding up his palm comically to stop it with the other. The golden gavel is outrageously awkward in the Toydarian's grasp, but he gives it a heft or two for effect. He tries a yellowed smile at Korolov and mock-threatens the Empire with his gavel. The rather impressive pyrotechnics capture Smitherbodkins' attention, and he watches with them with mild amusement; mild because, after all, Pumberdum is well known for such displays and they are not exactly rare on these occasions. The drawing of the new Prex, however, seems to interest him a bit more than the dinner theater shenanigans, and his eyes come to rest on the ExO as the tiny man draws the slip that will decide the fate of the next six months of the board. The name that's drawn causes him to blink, shock registering on his face for the merest of instants, before he bursts into gales of laughter. "Oh, well done," he exclaims to no one in particular, as though the whole thing had been orchestrated precisely thus, instead of being completely random. "Perhaps these meetings shall be less tedious from now one!" He glances to the Imperial delegation, raising an eyebrow as he says, "Be careful, gentleman, ladies. I believe our esteemed Prex has his eye on you!" This induces another burst of laughter. The Emperor's Emissary takes in the oddity of the Prex selection. He gives a half-hearted clap as the Toydarian approaches to give his speech before waving the gavel in his general direction. A laugh, almost hideous laugh emits from the bone mask, "Indeed." His attention turns towards Dante, "It would appear that our trip was not in vain." "Indeed, My Lord," Dante replies from where she stands and favors the new Prex and his golden gavel waving with a brief moment of her undivided attention. Then offers a polite smile to follow the brief moment of undivided attention. "Felicitations upon the day, Prex Qwynt, may you find all the profit that you deserve." Former Prex Pumberdum directs Qwynt to the front of the room. "It is the Prex's job to run the Direx meetings, of course," he says jovially. "I guess you're up, Mr Qwynt." Normally his congratulations of the new Prex might have gone on a little longer, but the horrible laughter of questionable mirth coming from the Imperial contingent unsettles him greatly and he hustles down the boardroom until he finds an empty seat. The large man then hoists his ample bulk into a chair,which creaks, and he lights a cigar, puffing anxiously. Miranda, meanwhile, claps just long enough to appear to have made a good show of hearty congratulations and then stops and slumps down into her chair. She holds her hand out to one side and snaps and the verpine pulls out a datapad and gives it to her. She pretends to get engrossed in something on the pad as the new Prex gets situated. It crosses Qwynt's mind to offer Dante twice what the Empire is paying her, but he is not quite in his wits yet, nor feeling the true extent of his power. Instead, he gives a half-bow to the dark-haired Imperial woman. Qwynt only partially knows what limits the power of his new office has, but he fully intends to find out. The Toydarian takes his cue from Pumberdum smoothly enough, and licks his thick, cracked lips. He pauses a long while, ready to address this group and aggressively get down to business. His first agenda item as Prex: "Gentlebeings -- far be it from me to miss an opportunity to do business, as I think you all know, heh! But I think at this bridge, ah intersection, a recess is our order? Let's take a quick break for smokes and get back at it in a few." He swings the gavel down convincingly, knocking a chip out of the finely polished and apparently brittle table surface. Qwynt cranes his neck for the door. "Stang! Where're my people?!" The call for a recess seems to be welcomed by the dapper gentleman, and he rises from his seat, leaving his hat on his chair to mark his place, lest some churlish being sneak in and take it for himself (or herself, or itself, for that matter). The drink, however, he does not leave, as surely some in the room must be coveting it, to take the edge off of the election. Passing Qwynt, he claps the Toydarian on the back, "Congratulations, my friend! May your reign be long and...fruitful." Darth Venger rises from his seat shortly after the recess is announced. He turns towards his retinue, "Prepare a holo-message to Imperial Center, Emperor Vadim will want to be informed of this...election immediately." He turns to make his way back out of the chamber, at least for the moment. Dante is the last of the Imperial contingent to withdraw from the chamber, taking the time to survey the room again and can't quite help - or doesn't try to - conceal the gleam of amusement in her eyes at how surprised or disappointed the other Direx members appear to be at having not won the straw poll.